


Cling

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 08:56:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13384437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: They stop at a hotel, and old habits die hard.





	Cling

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Noctis always managed to pull Ignis into his bed to cuddle with when they were kids and it became a habit that stuck as they grew up. Even now as adults, they still cuddle up in the same bed” prompt on [the FFXV kinkmeme](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4398.html?thread=7492142#cmt7492142). (Did two because the first came out too angsty, oops.)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

After too many days of camping in the country, slumped on limp sleeping bags flattened against the hard ground, it’s good to see a bed again. Noctis has other motives, but he still agrees with Prompto’s happy cheers over the plush mattresses, the thick duvets and silken sheets. The little motel room is nothing compared to the splendor of the palace, but Noctis likes to think he isn’t spoiled, and especially after so long out on the road, he can appreciate the little things. He arbitrarily chooses a bed after Prompto does, and he plops down on it even as Prompto asks, “Hey, how about we do a bit of shopping before we conk right out?”

Noctis shakes his head. It’s getting dark, but that isn’t the reason. He answers, “Nah,” and looks sharply up when he sees Prompto’s gaze turn on Ignis.

“How about you, Specs?”

Noctis says nothing, but his eyes should say it all. Ignis meets his look with the usual stoic calm. He replies just as Noctis wants: “No, thank you.”

Prompto misses all the subtext. He moves right on to, “Aw, man. How about you, big guy? You’re my last hope!”

Gladiolus snorts, but given the weapons dealer they passed in the parking lot, it’s no surprise he agrees, “Yeah, fine.”

With a whoop of victory, Prompto punches the air and makes for the door of their cramped hotel room. Gladiolus trails out after, casting Ignis and Noctis a short wave. When the door’s shut behind them, Noctis is left to wonder what he’d do if they’d stayed—if he had witnesses to _this_ , something that was one thing as children and is now quite another. He should probably be embarrassed.

But he knows he probably would’ve done it anyway, because things are _different_ when they have an actual bed. There are rituals for that—traditions, ones he still plans to uphold. He doesn’t need to ask if Ignis will. As he starts unbuckling his shoes, he grunts anyway, “You coming?”

Ignis pauses. Noctis doesn’t look up to see whatever hesitation’s flittering across Ignis’ handsome features. He always thinks too much. As Noctis kicks out of one shoe, barreling on despite all the obvious reservations, Ignis sighs, “We’re getting a bit old for this.”

Noctis shrugs and doesn’t answer. He knows it’s different. It’s isn’t like when they were small, and Ignis was soft and cute and always there for him: his human teddy bear, so easy to coax into his bed. His bed was bigger, better, and then he could keep Ignis up with him until the last possible moment. He always slept better when he had Ignis wrapped tightly around him. Always _does_. And maybe it was innocent then, sweet and simple. But the habit’s stuck, and just because it’s changed doesn’t mean Noctis doesn’t want it.

He pulls out his belt and drops it onto his discarded shoes, then climbs back under the covers, kicking them out until they’re just the way he likes. He doesn’t bother with the light. Gladiolus and Prompto will need it when they return, and besides, Noctis can sleep anywhere, under any conditions, if he just knows that Ignis is close at hand. He waits squarely in the middle of the mattress, knowing full well that, in the end, Ignis will always come to him. 

Ignis sighs again but does. He never fails Noctis, never denies him—not when it matters. Ignis trails around to the other side, and Noctis lazily watches him shed his boots, his belt, his gloves, and finally his glasses, set aside on a little nightstand tucked against the corner. The tight pants and prim button-up shirt stay, like Noctis’ own clothes, but pajamas are a luxury they can’t hold onto any longer. It doesn’t matter. Ignis always chose such exquisite, suave nightclothes that made him perfectly catch the moonlight, but he still looks good enough to eat in his form-fitted semi-suit. When his tall legs tuck beneath the blankets, Noctis actually sucks in a breath.

Then Ignis is there, right beside him, close enough to kiss. Ignis settles quickly onto the same pillow as Noctis, but Noctis nuzzles closer, seeking the right position. His arms creep beneath the covers to trace Ignis’ trim waist, and Noctis wraps around it, his shorter legs tangling with Ignis’. Noctis casually cuddles into Ignis warmth, his softness, his long, handsome body. It makes the rest of the day’s difficulties fade away, until it’s just the two of them, tucked as close together as they can. Their bed quickly becomes a furnace, but Noctis doesn’t pull away.

Noctis shuts his eyes, and in the peaceful sanctuary of Ignis’ familiar arms, he succumbs to sleep.


End file.
